The End of an Age
by lollipoptobi
Summary: A Stony oneshot. It has been six years since Loki's failed attack on New York, and the death of Pepper Potts, and Steve is still discovering some of the adverse affects of the serum he agreed to take all those years ago. Includes ClintxNatasha.


The first thing Steve did was take a very long, very hot shower. When he got out, Natasha was waiting for him.

"Are you going to be okay?" She asked. Steve knew that she was genuinely concerned. They had been teammates for six years now, and she had fought beside him and even saved his life a couple times. But he also knew that she was here on behalf of Shield. Because Fury had asked her to be there. And that irked him.

"I won't compromise the team. I'll work through this myself. And I'll be at work on Monday, regardless of what you say."

"Steve, I understand how hard things like this can be..." The look in his eye stopped her. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. But I think you should take more time off. A week, maybe?"

"No" was his only answer. He slammed his locker door shut and rounded on her, and she instinctively took two steps back and got into a solid stance before she realized what she was doing. He had scared her. He had scared her and rebuffed her, acting no better than a petulant child.

"I'm sorry Natasha... I just... I don't know what to do. I'd really just rather work." He sat down on the bench.

"Okay." She sat next to him, trying to force her guard down as much as possible. When he didn't reply she offered, "You should talk to Thor."

"I will." Suddenly unable to stay still, he stood up and walked out, pausing at the door to add, "Thank you."

* * *

Thor was in the especially long gym that Shield had made specifically for him. He was practicing pitching medicine balls at a solid steel target fifty meters away. He stopped when he saw Steve, and they sat together on a bench.

"Natasha was just here. She wanted to 'give me a heads up' about you. She is really worried."

Steve was silent for a while.

"How can you stand it?"

"Oh, you learn to find pleasures more than pains. I will take you to Asgard sometime, and show you the liquor, the women, the sparing. Take you hunting for bilgesnipe, now that will get the blood flowing through your veins again!" He slapped Steve on the back.

"But... You and Jane... How do you deal with it?"

Thor grew somber and shifted his weight. He wasn't the type to be kept down for long though, and in a few seconds he was smacking Steve on the back again, hard enough for it to sting.

"Don't you worry yourself about that! We'll find you a nice, Asgardian warrior woman, someone who can keep you on your toes!"

Steve's passive face pulled down into a frown.

"I've already got someone here."

"Oh... Oh." The smile fell from Thor's face, and didn't return this time. "Jane and I... I mean, she already knew, and I already knew, at least a little bit. You must... You must try and speak with this person." Thor said, obviously stumbling over the advice.

Of course, Steve thought bitterly. Thor was different. Jane was different. He'd been a fool to go for them for advice.

* * *

Clint was in the lounge when Steve blew through, wanting more than anything to get out of the building, to get out of the city, to away and gone and never come back to the infernal beeping and ticking and clanging of all of the damned machinery in this place... But there was no way out, and so Steve sat on the couch and stewed around in his head.

Steve had always liked Clint, and now, when Clint didn't try to initiate conversation or move to comfort Steve, Steve remembered why. Clint always gave him his space. He didn't force anything, but he still made sure that Steve knew he was there, and he was worried, and he was willing to help. He just remained sitting in the couch across from Steve when others would have fled the room as politely as possible, or intruded on Steve with questions or physical comfort.

The silent, mental hand that Clint was offering, quietly, persistently, unintrusively, was enough to bring Steve to his senses. He was angry. But there was nothing he could do. The evidence might not be conclusive. It might not really be happening. But six years was a long time. And if this was happening to him, it wasn't the fault of the doctors, it wasn't the fault of his teammates, it wasn't the fault of any of the staff members in the Shield facility. It was his own fault for accepting the offer, and his decision couldn't be changed. He had wanted to be special, to stand out, to be able to serve his country. And he had gotten his wish. He had to be mature. To approach the situation like an adult.

He looked up and met Clint's eyes. The concern apparent on Clint's face melted away as he realized that Steve had come to a conclusion. A hopeful conclusion.

"Bruce?"

"Bruce."

And he left the lounge as quickly as he'd come.

* * *

Steve was probably disturbing something important, but Bruce set aside everything anyway. He listened quietly as Steve related the situation, his brow furrowing. Bruce spoke quietly, slowly, and looked Steve directly in the eyes during the entire conversation.

"I can understand slowing down the process, that's almost always possible in one way or another regardless of the test subject. I'm more than willing to take a look and some samples from you and see if I can work out a solution, but I don't want to give you false hope, Steve."

It was alright, Steve told himself. He hadn't really expected anything more anyway.

"Speeding things up is incredibly dangerous, especially with someone like you, someone who is fundamentally altered on a genetic level by a serum. Shield will probably object to any experimentation that carries any kind of risk. Even if I do find a solution..."

Steve felt his throat go dry. He could see that Bruce was expecting an answer, so he nodded slightly.

"Besides that, just by taking a look at the data from the lab, your cells would be incredibly difficult to alter. Your leukocytes—your white blood cells—are incredibly tough skinned, literally, and incredibly aggressive. This means you're healthy and you don't need vaccinations or injections, but if they deem a substance introduced in to your system as hostile, which it would have to be, then it would shut it down within seconds and..." He speaking pace had picked up as he described this to Steve with increasingly apparent fascination and vigor, but he stopped abruptly at the look on Steve's face.

"I'm sorry." He said. "It would be almost impossible, even for me."

Steve told himself he hadn't been hoping. He hadn't allowed himself to hope. But as he sunk down onto the chair that Bruce had offered him when he first came in, he still felt the sting. The fear. The loss. The silence stretched on before Bruce cleared his throat, not sure of how to react to such a despondent Steve.

"Have you told Tony."

"No. We're having dinner together tonight."

"I see."

Steve got up and left. He needed to clear his head. He was not going to get angry again. He was not going to lose his head over this. He was going to go for a run. A really really long run. And then maybe he'd feel better.

* * *

By the time Steve got home from the run, he was five minutes late. By the time he was dressed and out of the shower, he was half an hour late. By the time he arrived at the top tower of the Stark Industries building in the center of New York City, he was an hour late. Tony was standing behind on of the two chairs at the table on the balcony, a full glass of wine in one hand. The wine bottle was sitting, uncorked and almost empty on the table. The candles had burned low. The food, cold.

"I didn't think you would come."

"I... I'm sorry. I should've called." Steve hated Tony when he was drunk. He didn't know how to deal with him. On any normal day, Tony was volatile, cranky, arrogant and rude, but these traits were only exaggerated when he was drunk.

"Tony, why don't you sit down."

"Oh I'm not _that_ drunk. I wanted to be relatively sober when you arrived." Tony's eyes had narrowed. Something was very wrong, and Steve didn't know what it was.

"Well... I have... I have something I have to talk to you about."

"Oh, you mean that little thing that you've already revealed to the entire team before even considering me? And even then I'm an after though."

Steve was stunned into silence for a second. How could Tony ever be an after thought?

"No! No, I mean, that was only—"

"You were an hour late, Steve. An hour. We've had this on the calendar for months, _I was here early_."

Tony had hit him where he knew it would hurt, and the look of guilt that covered Steve's face should've felt like victory, but... Tony took another deep drink from the glass in his hand.

"That's..."

God, Steve looked like he was in so much pain! Another drink.

"That's because I was running. Thinking. About us."

Those were exactly the words that Tony did not want to hear. Of course. Of course he had been thinking, that's why he didn't want to tell Tony, that's why he was so late, that's why Tony was the last to know. The wine turned sour in Tony's mouth, but he swallowed it down, determined not to show Steve how hurt he really was.

Steve looked up. Tony's face had paled, even if his expression was otherwise the same. He didn't want to hurt Tony. He hadn't meant to leave him out of the loop, but... All that Steve could do was try his best to give Tony something normal. Tony had been surrounded by crazy all his life, and their relationship now was abnormal enough without... Without this. _What I wouldn't give for all of these problems to vanish_.

"And?" Came Tony's prompt. It came out higher than he had planned, but he wanted to get this over with. It was a horrible night already.

"Tony, I can't... We can't... I mean, this..." Steve couldn't find the words. He had to do what was best for Tony, but his brain had just turned into a world of hurt. Tony's grip on the back of the chair was turning his knuckles white, and the hand with the wine glass in it was shaking.

"Right." Tony said. He emptied the wine glass and then proceeded to refill it with what was left in the bottle. His hands were still shaking a little, but it wasn't from the wine. Tony could be very very drunk and you wouldn't know from either his speech or balance. It came from many years of practice.

"Tony," Steve said, trying to start over, from the beginning. "I can't age. And you..." He cast around for the right words, "Tony, you deserve someone normal, someone better."

"I get it." Tony said. He stepped out from behind the chair, glass in hand, and emptied the wine down the front of Steve's shirt. "Stop saying my name. And get out of my house." His words came in a hiss as he fought to control his tears. Steve had greater conquests to make now, it was no wonder. He was immortal, and Tony was not, and that was enough to end this thing that had already gone on to long. Tony had always known it would end. But it still hurt. A lot. And Tony would be damned before he shed a tear in front of the man causing him so much pain.

Steve looked down at his lover. His former lover. He would live, he told himself. He would live and live and live, and maybe someday he would forget Tony. But some place in his heart knew better, and told him so. And so he turned without a word, and got in the elevator, and left the building, wishing with all his might that he could be normal for Tony. Cursing the day he agreed to that deal with the devil.

Steve walked and walked and walked. His shirt was soaked through. He was cold. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't the tears wouldn't come. _Damn good lover I turned out to be_. He walked some more.

In the morning, Clint found him in Central Park, red-eyed from crying and lack of sleep, and with his shirt still covered in wine. He merely pulled Steve up over his shoulder, assuming he was drunk, and dragged him back to Shield. Steve didn't make any move to correct the assumption. It felt nice to lean on someone.

Clint set him down in Steve's room, and got him a warm wash cloth for Steve's eyes. Steve hadn't even realized how sore they were until Clint made him put it over them.

After a while, Clint cleared his throat. "Natasha's pregnant. We're gonna get married at the end of the month, just a small ceremony." Steve smiled a little, the first smile in 24 hours. It was high time they got married.

"It's a boy," Clint continued, "and we want to name him after you."

And then Steve cried.

* * *

A/N: This is my only Stony fanfic, and will remain so. It is a stand alone. I confess, I do not ship this pairing, and I came up with this story mostly to torture my little sister, who does ship them. I also apologize if I got any of the nitty gritty details wrong, I've only seen the Avengers, Thor, and Iron Man movies, but I did my research and hopefully got all the characters down correctly.


End file.
